


make me a liar, one big disaster

by gatoliasw



Category: Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Pining, drunk taron, im bad at slow burn but i tried, its goblin time again babey, like a lot of drunk taron, taron has a praise kink, very brief angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatoliasw/pseuds/gatoliasw
Summary: Richard watched him, taking in the quiet beauty of Taron. How his eyes shone with every emotion he felt. How his lips would fall slightly open when he thought too hard. He had no idea what he did to everyone he met. He had a way of somehow making everyone fall head-over-heels for him in an instant. And he had no idea how much it hurt.Finally, Taron tore his attention away from the wall to look at Richard. He smiled, wide and genuine, and leaned up to kiss him hard on the cheek."You're my best friend and I love you." he said matter-of-factly. And promptly got up and walked away, leaving Richard to wallow in self-pity. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head against the wall.“Shit.”





	make me a liar, one big disaster

The hall seemed to stretch on forever. Richard sat in an armchair at one end, watching the (easily) hundreds of people flit between conversations and drinks. He'd had a few drinks himself and was feeling comfortably buzzed. Everyone seemed at ease, which was both comforting and annoying, as Richard couldn't stop looking around the room. His eyes finally settled on what they had been searching for: Taron, draped across a sofa like a goddamn Renaissance painting. He looked so happy, fully at peace. Richard felt a pang of jealousy at how calm and collected he seemed. He watched as Taron threw his head back and laughed at a joke someone made. Even from across the very large room, Richard's eyes locked on the freckle on his neck. He blamed the surprisingly lewd thoughts that exploded in his mind on the booze. 

Taron suddenly turned his head to look at Richard and their eyes met. Taron winked, the bastard, and moved to get up from the couch. He placed his empty glass on a counter and sauntered towards Richard, whose stomach became a butterfly garden. It seemed to take years but eventually Taron made it over. 

"Quite the party, huh," he said, moving to stand next to the chair. Richard made a noise of agreement and took a sip of his drink. Taron ran a hand through Richard's perfectly quaffed hair, glancing around the crowded room. Richard felt himself melting through the chair and into the floor, silently begging him to never stop touching him. Somehow, the message was relayed, because Taron continued to play with his hair while he talked. He was saying something about someone he'd met years ago who happened to be there when Richard's mind finally returned to his own body in the chair.

"Dickie, did you hear me?" Taron asked. 

Richard rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me that," he grumbled. "And no, sorry, I'm a little out of it right now."

Taron waved him off. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. It's a bit loud over here, don't you think? Maybe it'd be better to find somewhere quieter?" 

Richard swore there was a tiny flirtatious tone in his words. Nevertheless, he nodded and followed the other man to a hallway just around the corner from the main party. They sat on the floor, backs against the wall, chatting for a bit until they fell into a comfortable silence. Richard could practically smell the alcohol on Taron's breath, a testament to how calm he really was. He had a small open-mouthed smile on his face, and stared at the wall in front of him. 

Richard watched him, taking in the quiet beauty of Taron. How his eyes shone with every emotion he felt. How his lips would fall slightly open when he thought too hard. He had no idea what he did to everyone he met. He had a way of somehow making everyone fall head-over-heels for him in an instant. And he had no idea how much it hurt.

Finally, Taron tore his attention away from the wall to look at Richard. He smiled, wide and genuine, and leaned up to kiss him hard on the cheek. 

"You're my best friend and I love you." he said matter-of-factly. And promptly got up and walked away, leaving Richard to wallow in self-pity. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head against the wall. 

“_Shit_.”

~~

Late on a quiet Thursday night, Richard was seated on his couch scrolling mindlessly through channels. His phone chimed once from next to him, then a few more times in a row. The screen lit up, displaying a message from “Duckie”.

** _hey m a litle drumk but i juts wante d to say hat i love y ou nd im glad it was u for jonh ried _**

** _and thta u mean a lot tp me_ **

** _m sorry for beinh cliny nd touchey all th time i knwo ita wired_ **

** _wierd_ **

** _weird_ **

** _yur probbly asleep sorry_ **

Richard laughed. Drunk Taron’s incessant talking carried over to text, apparently. 

_ I’m not asleep actually _

_ I’m glad it was me for John Reid too _

He has a response in seconds.

** _RICAHRDDDD_ **

** _dickie i lov yu_ **

** _what r yo doinh_ **

_ Stop calling me that! And nothing, really _

As soon as Richard put his phone down to resume doing nothing, it rang. He rolled his eyes and hit ‘answer’. 

“Dickie! Hi!”

“Hi, T. How much have you had to drink, mate?”

“Not a lot! I think 3 shots? 5? 8? I don’t know.”

Richard laughed. Taron’s words were slightly slurred, and it was incredibly endearing, sadly. 

“I love your laugh,” Taron said, oddly quiet.

Richard choked on his own breath and started coughing violently. 

“You stopped laughing.”

“Jesus, Taron, you’re too much sometimes.” Richard said, running a hand down his face. The guy had absolutely no idea what he did to him.

“Sorry, Dickie. I can go if you want-”

“No! No, it’s okay,” he replied, trying his best not to come across too desperate. “I was actually bored anyways. Also, stop calling me Dickie.”

“I miss you,” Taron said, completely ignoring his request. “You should come to London.”

“I will eventually, T. I don’t have time right now, I’m sorry.”

“You can swing by my place! Also, you didn’t say it back.” Taron whined, and Richard could practically hear his pout through the phone. “Say it back, Dickie.”

“I’m giving you a free pass on calling me that because you’re hammered, and I guess I miss you too.” he said, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Hey Rich?”

“Yeah, T?”

“Why do you call me duckie?”

Richard’s breath hitched. “What?”

“I looked it up on Urban Dictionary and I’m sure that’s not right but why do you call me duckie? I thought it was a Scottish thing for a while but I’ve been told it isn’t.”

Panic of what Taron had found on Urban Dictionary bubbled in Richard’s chest and he stumbled on his words. “It’s a term of endearment. Like calling someone sweetheart or darling.”

“Well, yeah, I get that, but you don’t call me sweetheart, Dickie.”

“Would you like me to?” Richard asked, getting up from the couch and making his way to the kitchen. He sort of hoped Taron said yes. “I can, if you’d like.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “I shrugged just then, you couldn’t see. It’s best if you didn’t, I think. You’d probably break the fans.”

Richard grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge and set it down on the counter. “Do you want me to stop calling you duckie, then?”

“Fuck no, I love it,” Taron replied, a little too quickly and a little too breathlessly. It made Richard’s heart soar.

“Alright then, duckie,” he teased, a flirtatious lilt lacing his voice. “I should go, get back to doing nothing.”

“Good night, Dickie. You’re my best mate and I love you!” he practically yelled into the phone.

“Good night, T. Drink some water.” Richard said. Taron made a kissing noise and hung up. 

Richard grinned, set his phone down, and exhaled a very long breath. 

Taron was, slowly but surely, killing him.

~~

A month later, both Taron and Richard happened to be at the same party, and both happened to be quite drunk.

The problem with this was that, while drunk, Richard couldn't quite keep his hands to himself and Taron was a thousand times touchier with a substantial amount of liquor in him. Because of this, Taron was seated in Richard's lap, combing his hands through his hair and being incredibly talkative. Richard, once again, was melting into the ground at the touches. His arms were around the other man's waist, holding him in place and playing with the hem of his shirt.

Taron's hands briefly stopped moving, and Richard leaned up and placed a light kiss on that freckle that was driving him crazy. Taron didn't seem to mind, so he decided that this was an okay thing to keep doing and continued to kiss up his neck. Taron hummed quietly and continued talking about nothing, which was mostly expected. What Richard wasn't expecting, however, was him stopping in the middle of a sentence, grabbing his face and slamming their lips together. Richard's eyes flew open for a second, his hands gripping Taron's waist hard before his brain recovered from the short circuit. He began to process what was happening and his eyes slipped shut.

Taron's lips were impossibly soft but he kissed hard. It was an incredibly awkward position; Taron's torso twisted sideways to face Richard's chest, who pulled him closer and leaned forward. He slid a hand up Taron's shirt and tentatively nipped at his bottom lip. The other man let out a high pitched almost-whine and let his jaw go slack. Richard eagerly devoured him. He tasted like strawberries and rum and it was the most delicious thing in the world. Taron moved a leg so he was straddling Richard and wrapped his arms around his neck. Apparently neither cared whether there were people who saw them like this or what they would say.

Richard could feel his own heartbeat pounding loud and fast in his ears and wondered how in the hell he had been coerced into this. He was suddenly much more sober than he would like to be, and he abruptly pulled away. His not-quite-drunk-anymore mind realized this Should Not Be Happening. Taron chased his lips, but Richard placed a hand on his chest and held him back.

“You’re _drunk_, T.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. 

It killed Richard to have to push Taron off his lap. “Another time, mate. When you’re sober.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Drink some water.” He stood and wandered off to find a bathroom and calm himself down.

~~

They didn't talk about that night.

Taron assumed Richard didn’t want what had happened to happen ever again, and Richard assumed Taron didn’t remember. They were both utterly and completely wrong.

~~

Somehow, Richard's hectic schedule had finally matched up with Taron's and they both happened to be in London at the same time. He was 98% sure that Taron didn't actually know that, however. His plane had landed about an hour before, and he had just arrived at his hotel. And being honest with himself, he did actually miss the lunatic. He plopped down on the bed, pulled up Taron's contact, and hit call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, duckie!"

"What's got you all excited?" Taron asked.

"What, I'm not allowed to be enthusiastic about taking to my best mate?"

"Well, normally, sure, but we talked like two days ago. For three hours."

Richard could see this was going nowhere. "What are you doing right now?" 

"I'm at home, why?"

"I'll see you in twenty, alright?"

"Hold on, hold on hold on," Taron said, his voice squeaking the smallest bit. From the sound of it, he finally understood what was happening. "What makes you think you can invite yourself over? At 8 PM, no less?" 

"You extended an invitation while you were hammered a while ago, I assumed it was still valid?"

"Fucking obviously, Rich. I'll see you in twenty, yeah?" Taron sounded completely and utterly thrilled, and Richard felt like he was going to explode.

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll see you then." Taron replied, then promptly hung up. Richard quickly threw on a clean t-shirt and jeans and attempted to fix his hair, before remembering he was only seeing Taron and that this was stupid. He barely kept from running out of the building and he hopped in an Uber. He anxiously stared out the window, his leg bouncing in anticipation. When he finally arrived, he stepped out of the car and stood in front of Taron's door. Richard took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and rung the doorbell.

It opened almost immediately, a bright-eyed Taron standing in front of him. The two of them stared at each other for a minute, grinning uncontrollably, before Taron finally moved to let him in. Richard had barely closed the door behind him when Taron attacked him with a hug. 

"Fuck, I missed you." he mumbled into Richard's neck. Richard inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of Taron setting him at ease. They stood in the doorway for what felt like eons, neither making the first move to release the other. 

“Taron,“ Richard finally spoke. “Should we go sit down?”

“Probably.” Taron mumbled, face still buried in Richard’s neck. Taron reluctantly let go, still standing extremely close. One of Richard’s hands stayed on his hip, subconsciously holding him in place. “I really did miss you, Rich.”

“I don’t doubt it, T.”

Taron rolled his eyes. “You never say anything back. I’m over here all sappy and gross and adoring and you’re just… a manly man who won’t admit he missed his best mate.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fair. I’ve only just arrived and you’re insulting me!” Richard said, starting to walk away from the door and further into the house. 

“You still didn’t say it back!”

“Fine, fine. I missed you too, you idiot.”

Taron faked a shocked look. “Now who’s throwing insults around?”

Richard flopped down on the couch and threw his legs up on the table. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, actually, I was about to order something before you called. Have you?”

“No, I only landed about an hour and a half ago.”

“We can order Thai? I’ve been craving Thai for a while.”

“Fine by me.”

Taron ordered them food, then came back to the couch, vaulting over the back and almost landing on Richard’s lap. They laughed for a minute, just enjoying each company.

“I love your laugh. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.” Taron said, voice quiet and slightly embarrassed.

“You have, actually, but you were hammered. You called to tell me you loved me and missed me.” Richard replied, his cheeks turning pink.

Taron turned to look at him and Richard was suddenly incredibly aware of how little space there actually was between them. He watched Taron glance down at his lips, and hope and adrenaline bubbled in his chest. They were so close. Taron licked his lips, watching Richard’s face for any sign of protest. When he saw none, he took a breath and tentatively leaned closer. Richard brought a hand up to Taron’s jaw and kissed him gently, his heart racing in his chest. Taron pressed further, tilting his head to attempt to deepen the kiss. His eyes were screwed shut and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

Richard pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. Taron whined quietly at the loss of contact and opened his eyes. 

“We shouldn’t,” Richard breathed. “We-”

“Uh, no, we absolutely should, you tosser,” Taron said, cutting him off and grabbing a fistful of Richard’s shirt. “We’re both sober and we both want this. No bullshit. No excuses.” He yanked him in and kissed him, falling backwards a bit from the force of it. Richard found this incredibly hot and took full advantage of the position, following the motion until he was on top of Taron, arms caging him in beneath him. Taron had one hand on Richard’s jaw, and the other was pulling at his hair. Richard started placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down Taron’s jaw, stopping at his neck and nipping lightly at the skin there. One of Richard’s knees came up between Taron’s thighs and crept slowly further up until it elicited a surprisingly loud moan from him. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Richard muttered into his skin, his accent thick and dripping with lust. “So, so fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Taron flushed pink and whined. “_ Shit _, Rich.”

Richard leaned back to look at his face, pushing his knee a little further into his dick. “You look so good like this. Just… all happy and laid out.”

Taron’s hips bucked of their own accord and he let out another small moan.

Richard cocked an eyebrow. “Got a thing for praise, there, T?”

“Shut it, Madden.”

“I don’t think I will, actually,” he quipped, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it on the floor. Taron stared up at him, almost panting. Richard took in the sight of him, breathless and sweaty and all turned on. “Absolutely _un-fucking-believable_, you are. You practically _own_ me at this point, I’d let you do anything to me.”

“You absolute arse,” Taron growled, sitting up quickly and somehow managing to reverse their positions so he was on top. He captured Richard’s lips in a deep kiss, a hand creeping down to the front of his jeans. He started to unbuckle Richard’s belt and exactly at that moment, the doorbell rang. 

Richard groaned. “Oh, fuck me.”

“I’m trying to,” Taron mumbled, kissing him again, lazy and slow. Richard smiled into it, wrapping his arms around Taron’s neck. The doorbell rang again once, and then another time. 

“You’re still wearing a shirt, you have to get the food,” Richard said, pulling away. 

Taron smacked his chest. “Fuck off, your shirt’s literally on the ground next to you.”

“Please, sweetheart?” he said, batting his eyelashes. “I’ll call you pretty if you do.” Taron went red and the doorbell rang again, this time followed by a knock on the door.

“Fine, fine.” He kissed Richard once more, then got up off the couch and made his way to the door. Richard watched him walk away, eyes focused on his ass. He whistled at Taron who turned around and stuck his tongue out at him.

This was probably going to be the best night of Richard’s life.

~~ 

Later that night, _ much _later, when both men were completely worn out, Richard remembered something Taron had said once, a long time ago.

“T?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“What did Urban Dictionary actually say about calling people duckie?”

Taron snorted. “Jesus, Dickie, I don’t remember. Something about it being said to a nice person that you want to have your way with. That’s why I was confused.”

“Oh.” Richard said.

“Yeah.”

“I guess it was right, though.”

“I guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love drunk taron and i love the urban dictionary definition of duckie  
also while in the process of writing this taron said that he and rich have kind of fallen in love a little bit and i think im dead right now  
title and insp. is from faster by matt nathanson
> 
> tumblr: gatoliasw  
twitter: jeltoneohn


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